


Got me on my knees

by UlsPi



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Rimming, Tender Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27606523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Jaskier gets a flat of his dreams, along with two flatmates of his dreams. If only they stop thinking it has to be a love triangle... In Jaskier's mind, they are just a happy love circle.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	Got me on my knees

Jaskier is suspended in the morning light, the August light, bright and orange and pink. He's nothing but pleasure and warmth. He's nothing but love, so much love. He has Eskel on his knees at his front, sucking him off, no,  _ pleasuring him _ , holding on to Jaskier's hips, where Eskel's fingers are intertwined with Geralt's, and Geralt is on his knees behind Jaskier, sucking and nipping and lapping at Jaskier's hole. 

And Jaskier feels like he's made of light, like he weighs nothing. He's naked, but he's warm; he's held between two men he loves, and they love him back. He can feel the morning breeze on his skin, can feel the tiniest movements of his hair, be it head or chest, feels the pleasure coursing through his veins, up and down his skin. 

He wants to touch and caress too, but he's held there, suspended there, so it's only his hands in his lovers' hair, it's only his breathy encouragements, soft moans, angry groans when he's being teased. 

And the world is rocking, rocking, rocking outside and in their living room, and he's pleasured, but on his lovers' terms. 

He comes with a broken sigh, then he's held up, until he's not. Then he's on his knees, because he can't hold himself up, then he's laving at two hard cocks… His lovers don't even insist on it, don't think they can ask for it, they even try to help Jaskier back to his feet, but Jaskier is holding them there, pouring all his pent up affection over two huge men who are just standing there, love-struck, surprised at being worshipped the way they deserve. 

Jaskier has known lust and has known infatuation, but  _ this  _ here, this is love, this is true. He wants them to be happy, he wants to please and pleasure them…

But they are idiots of course, so Jaskier has to stop his cock-sucking feast. "You two… you kiss now. You kiss," he demands. He knows they will listen, so he calmly returns to lavishing their cocks with his attention, to grabbing their hips and arsecheeks, and he can't help a moan when he hears Geralt and Eskel kiss above him. 

Jaskier looks up, sees a tentative, slow kiss, sees Geralt's fingers in Eskel's short born hair, and sees Eskel's fingers in Gerald's long white locks… It's beautiful, it's so beautiful Jaskier is feeling blessed by it all, by the sun, by the day, by the time and by the space. Everything rhymes, everything is in order - in that soft, sticky order that reigns over a bedroom in the morning. 

He's got them, and more importantly, they've got Jaskier. Where would they be without him, really?

But more about it later, because Jaskier is carried away in Geralt's arms and placed into Eskel's arms, and Jaskier's kissed all over, and he kisses Geralt and turns around to kiss Eskel. It's so beautiful, all of it, it's so forgetful and careless about every misconception and tradition… or is it? 

Jaskier is sandwiched between Geralt and Eskel. Somehow they are all kissing, breathing each other's breath. It's just the way Jaskier wants it. 

***

Jaskier is 24, fresh out of the university, writing his poetry and prose, fighting for his scholarships and, somewhere down the road, tenure, he has a few pupils, those he teaches to play the lute and write good essays. He's not picky, he's too generous to be a snob. He'll share his admirable literary talents with anyone who's there to take them. 

He's looking for an accommodation.

In all honesty, he'd like to remain a tutor for the rest of his life. He loves his students, he loves performing in independent bookshops and tiny pubs. He actually manages to make a living of it. 

The truth is, Jaskier is ultimately, impossibly likable. Evey pupil of his brings in at least two more, and why should he fight some snobbish idiots over a scholarship when he can just teach people to play the lute (guitar, oud, anything with strings attached) and write good essays?

It doesn't solve the problem of accommodation, though. 

He's seen that ad in a local newspaper. Two men are looking for a flatmate. They are currently renting a big three bedroom flat in a good neighbourhood, with huge floor to ceiling windows, AC, two bathrooms and every good thing, and they don't want to lose it because their flatmate got married and moved out. 

Jaskier texts both people. 

They set up a meeting in a coffee shop quite close to the building and flat of Jaskier's dreams.

And that's how Jaskier meets them. 

They are sitting in that damned or blessed coffeeshop, Geralt (Jaskier doesn't know it's Geralt yet) nursing a tiny cup of what must be quadruple expresso, and Eskel (Jaskier doesn't know it's Eskel yet) holding his huge cup of vanilla caramel macchiato as if it's his most prized possession.

Both men look menacing to say the least. Both are very well-built, broad-shouldered,  _ rhyming  _ like brothers never do but lovers should. Geralt is younger, or so it seems, despite his silver white hair reaching down to his shoulders and gathered into a half-bun. Eskel appears to be older. He's bigger than Geralt but he emanates gentleness and kindness. 

Jaskier gets his caramel apple chai latte and sits in front of them. 

"Oh no," Geralt says. 

"Hello!" Eskel says.

"Hi guys," Jaskier greets. He's spilling some of his hot drink over his freezing cold fingertips, but who cares? "I'm Jaskier. Which one of you is which?" He smiles. 

Both men hum in reply. 

Alright. 

"So… I'm Jaskier Pankratz. I majored in everything, mostly because I'm brilliant and have bigoted parents."

"You're gay," Geralt says, not at all helpful.

"Geralt!" Eskel says, very helpful, not that anyone knows. 

"I'm pansexual. Thank you. I don't really think it's relevant unless either of you is a queerphobic piece of shit, in which case I'm going to pour my far too huge drink over your far too huge heads."

"I'm a groom, and that's all I want to be," Geralt says. "I tend to horses. Horses are the best."

"I'm a neonatal nurse," Eskel supplies softly. "I'm demisexual."

"Lovely," Jaskier beams. "Can I move in?"

***

However grim they are, both Geralt and Eskel help Jaskier move in. Each can carry half of Jaskier's worldly possessions in their hands, so it doesn't take much time before Jaskier's moved in fully. 

The beautiful flat bears no evidence that there are actual people living there. Everything is clean, spotless, no speck of dust, no forgotten sock. 

Well, Jaskier fixes it quickly. 

First, he banishes the contents of the fridge and fills it with fresh produce and homemade sauces, including mayonnaise, goat's milk (to Eskel's delight) and cheese. 

For anyone's sake, Jaskier makes their own pasta. 

All the while humming to himself and singing anything, from rembetiko to tango and back again, interspersed with several operatic arias. 

Jaskier also makes sure their flat is… alive. There are forgotten socks, laundry left in the washing machine, piles of dirty dishes in the sink. 

It's beautiful. 

Or so Eskel thinks. 

***

Jaskier gives up on academic career. He has his students, his poems, his very hot flatmates. 

Jaskier is also apparently the only one who sees that Geralt and Eskel are in love. Serves them right. 

See, Jaskier makes a point of visiting Geralt and Eskel at work, if only to bring them homemade lunches…

It's lovely how each of them asks about Jaskier first, then about the other's well-being. 

Jaskier never teases them. To him, it's more important to make sure their home is indeed a home - so he brings candles, flowers, silly chocolate figures, cakes, stuffed toys, useless knick-knacks… Anything to turn their big and beautiful flat into a  _ home _ .

Geralt is grumpy about it and Eskel is wordless about it, but Jaskier learns quickly that it's their way of expressing their appreciation. 

He also learns that bringing a smile on his flatmates' faces is the only award he wants at the end of the day. 

Jaskier  _ loves  _ it when he has to deliver his carefully packed lunchboxes to Geralt and Eskel. Each one is beautiful in his own way, and he's there to acknowledge their beauty. 

***

  
  


Jaskier is singing with his friends at a Greek evening in that pub neither Geralt, nor Eskel frequent. Jaskier is drawn to rembetiko because it's so queer… and he doesn't want to dwell on actual history, however well aware he is of it. It's queer, because Jaskier's favourite song features that line…  _ When you pass by, baby, you're driving me crazy, my light. _

The language itself is magical and it makes Jaskier magical when he plays that music and sings that song. Greek is so old and so young, there's so much history to it, that Jaskier can't let himself ignore it. 

He's young and he's in love and he's been gifted with a voice to rival that of the angels which he doesn't believe in. 

He's the only one in the band to play multiple instruments, so he blows that horn and that trombone, and he's infusing the evening with his youth, his desire to let the whole world see his love. 

***

Eskel's tongue is up his hole, and Geralt's tongue is down his throat. He's squirming and moaning between them, he's trying to scream, but his screams are kissed off of his lips.

"Sing for us, lark…" Geralt mumbles into Jaskier's lips. 

***

Geralt wants to be a farrier. 

He also wants to make saddles. 

He's also the best groom any stable can dream about, so he has plenty of work. 

Eskel, in the meantime, is drowning in his nightshifts.

Jaskier quickly learns that the height of Gerald's care is a soft  _ hmmmm _ and a cup of tea. He doesn't chide Geralt for it, because after all, everyone has their own standard of care, but Jaskier, with his flexible schedule and easygoing approach and the need to bring happiness to everyone who might be in need of it - he thinks that there might be something more. 

Like a warm bath for Geralt and a game of chess for Geralt. 

Like a good dinner for all three of them. Jaskier loves cooking for them. Jaskier loves watching his two big, thick flatmates devour the meal Jaskier has made. 

Jaskier loves seeing his oils and creams and soaps being used by his flatmates. 

Jaskier loves it when he tries to chide them for using his toiletries and they blush. 

They are lovely.

They just need to figure out that they are in love with each other and that it's ok that they are in love with Jaskier. 

It's ok, indeed. Jaskier would die for them.

***

Eskel opens him up carefully, just one finger - forever - while Geralt is kissing Jaskier's lips and neck, and is playing with Jaskier's nipples, his hair, his sensitive flanks. 

Eskel opens him up carefully, fingers and tongue and soft words. 

Jaskier pulls him in for a kiss. 

Geralt pulls Jaskier's head to his lips, too. It's so lovely to kiss like that, all together. 

***

Jaskier is playing every instrument there is, he's full of music, he's full of yearning and knowing and everything. 

The dancefloor is swaying according to his will, in tune with his voice. 

It's intoxicating. 

It's beautiful. 

It's beautiful. 

It's beautiful. 

And somewhere on the dancefloor, unbeknownst to Jaskier, Geralt and Eskel feel that it's beautiful.

_ When I see you walk by me, baby, my light, you're driving me crazy.  _

Or however you translate it. 

***

Jaskier has Eskel's cock up his arse, and he has Geralt's cock in his hands. 

"Don't come just now," Geralt asks. 

"I won't," Jaskier promises, while Eskel is so good inside him, so… so right. 

He keeps his word. 

He keeps his word, because when Eskel comes inside him, there's Geralt's mouth on him, lapping on Eskel's release - and then there's Geralt inside him, while Eskel smooths and touches Jaskier everywhere. 

There will be time, Jaskier thinks, there'll be time. It's alright… 

He leans closer to Eskel for a kiss, he leans back into Geralt to kiss him too. He has so much love to give, so much love. The more he's given, the more he has to give. 

***

When Jaskier was young, when he was a useless queer, anime-addicted, dreaming of being the biggest source of magic ever, he couldn't have dreamt of two strong men holding him carefully in the morning light, loving him like he hadn't dreamt of…

It takes little to be magical, it turns out. It takes an ability to make food, to know how to build a home, to see how to enjoy life. However little that life has given Jaskier to enjoy, he's learned enough to carry the knowledge on. He considers his knowledge precious enough to protect and to share. 

Perhaps that's why he's being made love to by two most incredible men…

Geralt is a groom, a farrier, a saddle maker. He's a horse girl.

And Eskel can warm a premie into a strong and resilient baby, just because Eskel believes so. Isn't that magic? Isn't all of it magic, after all?

***

It's Cuban evening, and Jaskier is supposed to sing and sing alone. 

He's swaying his hips, he's singing his soul out - it's easy when you have two lovers at home who can't comprehend a thing about love being kind and generous…

So Jaskier is singing it out to them. 

He's a siren, he can give voice to anything, he's a Polish Jew, he can assimilate anywhere and still keep up his own identity. 

So he's moaning and groaning and crooning into the microphone, and he knows he can pull those two men out to the dance floor with his voice alone, but he moves his hips more than he should, more than it's appropriate. He has to lure those two out and make them rub against each other. Just because he can. 

***

It's Geralt inside him this time, and it's Eskel kissing and caressing him. Jaskier doesn't know any of it, he's lost to the sheer  _ pleasure  _ of it. He's fucked, he's kissed, he's loved. 

He cuddles them both afterwards, he holds them close.

Both Geralt and Eskel are older than him, but who cares? Certainly not Jaskier. 

"We need just one bedroom," he proclaims. "The other two can be used by Ciri and her friends when they come around."

He's not judgemental, not at all. 

Alright, so Geralt had a girlfriend and had a kid with her, but it means nothing in terms of shame or whatever shit Geralt is imagining, because Jaskier had met Geralt's daughter, and has learned that Eskel loves her just as much as Geralt does. 

And Jaskier loves that girl more than anyone else can. 

And Jaskier doesn't know it yet, but he's Ciri's true mother. 

And Jaskier encourages her love for anime and comic books and fanfiction. He fights Geralt and Yennefer, Ciri's mother, and Eskel for Ciri's right to rejoice in whatever she chooses. 

Before long he's the one sent to fight anyone who dares cross Ciri. 

And before long, he's the one to attend Japanese classes with Ciri. 

He takes her to comic-cons, too. 

But then he comes home… 

And that's how he ends up, worshipped and cared for. 

Rinse and repeat. 

He and Ciri win every competition that requires a good voice and a good grasp of Japanese. 

***

Jaskier has more students than there are hours in the day, but no one dares complain about it. 

Geralt makes sure Jaskier has a warm bath when he gets home. He also picks him up, if he has to. 

And Eskel makes sure to follow Jaskier's instructions and prepare dinner for Jaskier when he's finally home. 

Horses and babies be damned, when Jaskier gets home, he deserves to be spoilt, to be fed, bathed and cuddled in their joint warmth.

He's been there for them, so now they are there for him. 

Geralt reasons that it's only fair and Eskel doesn't argue.

They don't argue that much these days, and if they do, they have Jaskier to guide them through it. 

It's just… beautiful, all of it. 

It's perhaps unheard of, it's unusual maybe, but that's how they…  _ roll. _ So Geralt and Eskel listen to it and obey it. It makes them happy, after all. 

Nothing else matters. 


End file.
